


Shifts and changes

by yogini



Series: Living with a dragon [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baby Dragon, Babysitter Peter Hale, Dragon Stiles Stilinski, Gen, Kid Fic, Kid Stiles Stilinski, Minor Injuries, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5102333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yogini/pseuds/yogini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Stiles! Peter!” he yelled again, louder this time and thankfully he was answered. <br/>“We’re up here, Sheriff.” <br/>He hastily made his way up the stairs and to his son’s room, only to stop at the doorstep to take in the sight that met him.  Peter’s shirt was bloodied and in tatters, Stiles’ hair was messy and his face was streaked with tears but he was asleep, and calmly so. Too calmly, in fact.<br/>“What did you do to him?” the Sheriff all but roared, lifting the gun and pointing it steadily at his son’s babysitter.<br/>“I drugged him.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shifts and changes

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Teen Wolf or any of the characters in the series, I'm just borrowing them from their respective owners to play with a little and I promise to give them back when I'm done. No copyright infringement is intended and I don't make any money from writing fanfiction.

“Sheriff?” Peter’s voice sounded a little strained.

“Yes?”

“You should come home as fast as you can. We have a bit of a situation here.” The Sheriff slammed the phone down on his desk before the call even disconnected and was out of the office in a second, yelling to the officer at the front desk that he had a family emergency. The confused first half of a question followed him outside as he thundered down the front steps, two at a time, and all but leaped into his car. Peter wouldn’t call like that unless it really was something serious going on and he couldn’t help to wonder what his son had done now.

 

Not many minutes later he arrived home, having broken against a non-negligible amount of speed limits and only jut remembered to shut the siren off before running towards the front door, or rather, the hole in the wall where the front door usually sat.

“Stiles? Peter? Answer me!” As he cautiously looked around his hand automatically searched for his gun. He quickly checked the living room which proved to be empty but in utter disarray and then moved on to the kitchen were a large number of plates and cups seemed to have been broken. There was also blood on the floor and the Sheriff felt as if someone had suddenly and brutally cut off his air supply.

“Stiles! Peter!” he yelled again, louder this time and thankfully he was answered.

“We’re up here, Sheriff” Peter’s voice seemed relatively calm and that soothed his nerves somewhat but he still couldn’t shake of the feeling of panic that had clung to him ever since the phone call. He hastily made his way up the stairs and to his son’s room, only to stop at the doorstep to take in the sight that met him. Peter and Stiles were both curled up on narrow bed, Stiles’ head resting on Peter’s chest. Peter’s shirt was bloodied and in tatters, Stiles’ hair was messy and his face was streaked with tears but he was asleep, and calmly so. Too calmly, in fact.

 

“What did you do to him?” the Sheriff all but roared, lifting the gun once more and pointing steadily at his son’s babysitter.

“I drugged him” was the calm response. “He was too far gone, nothing I said was calming him down so I gave him the herbs that Deaton left us.”

“You what? Those were only in case he sh-, I mean, only for emergencies! You shouldn’t have done it! He almost looks dead!” The Sheriff took one step closer. “What could he possibly have done for you to drug him, huh? You of all people know of his excess energy, you can’t just…”

“He shifted” Peter interrupted him, not looking even the least bit intimidated by the gun that the Sheriff belatedly realized contained regular bullets, not the wolfsbane variety. “All I did was to try to help him, Sheriff.” Peter still sounded calm, but his voice had the smallest hint of reproach in it too.

“He… He shifted?! The Sheriff repeated faintly, lowering the gun and Peter nodded in response. “Fully?” Another nod. “This early?” The last question was almost whispered and answered with a grim smile from Peter.

”Sorry, I just… I didn’t…” The Sheriff holstered the gun and took a tentative step closer. “You, uh, you okay?” he asked, gesturing towards Peter’s general appearance.

“Werewolf healing has its perks” Peter answered as he continued to stroke Stiles’ hair. “And I believe that it looked much worse than it actually was. I would’ve cleared away the blood before you came here if I’d had the time but…” He gestured to the sleeping boy and let the rest of the sentence die away.

“Of course, of course” the Sheriff hurried to agree. “Can I…?” He gestured towards the pair of them and Peter immediately vacated his spot, careful not to jostle Stiles.

“Go on, he’ll need his father for this. I’ll just go borrow your bathroom for a while, make myself a bit more presentable. Talia’s already on her way.” With that Peter left the Sheriff to care for his son as he went off to find a shirt that wasn’t drenched in blood.

 

“I didn’t think…” The Sheriff’s voice trailed off as he watched his son running around the yard and playing with Scott, seemingly without a care in the world despite the fact that he’d just shifted into his dragon form for the first time in his life, mere hours ago. “I just hoped that, with all the precautions that we’d made, that we could’ve delayed it a bit more. He’s only _twelve_.” He rubbed a hand that was shaking slightly over his forehead, as he thought about all the steps and measures that had been put in place to keep Stiles’ true nature from being revealed. All of Claudia’s jewellery that he’d put away, the silvery photo frames that had been replaced with wooden ones, the plastic utensils they used in the kitchen. He’d done anything he possibly could to keep Stiles getting exposed to glittery metals and shiny things, even going as far as to invent a severe allergy against nickel to keep the school staff from asking any questions. The less his son saw of shiny objects, the less he’d crave them, and thus, at least in theory, they could delay his formal presentation of a dragon. Now that it had happened all of it was of no use anymore. They’d have to resort to other measures to keep him safe, and Stiles would have to learn to control his instincts.

 

“I don’t know what to do” he confessed to the woman sitting next to him.

“I’ve been in contact with our Emissary” Talia said. “He will cut his trip short and return here as quickly as he can. Then we can discuss our options. In the meantime it might be safer for Stiles to spend as little time as possible around others, and their inevitable,” she paused, searching a moment for the right word, “ _temptations_.” The Sheriff sighed heavily.

“I never wanted to do this to him.”

“No parent ever does” Talia tried to comfort him. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”

 

The next day Stiles was sent off to one of the Hale pack’s safe houses. He wouldn’t return to Beacon Hills until they’d managed to find a way to disguise his powers until he could control them.


End file.
